


Snow Steps, Garden Walks

by CampionSayn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Companion Piece, Developing Relationship, Gen, M/M, Post-Deathly Hallows, mention of Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:38:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In life, unlike most things written or recorded, things happen far more strangely than anyone imagines. For some more than others and it's the others that you have to keep an eye on especially. Like castle keepers and half-giants and the cat that constantly tries to bridge the gap between them. At least, when no one's looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Steps, Garden Walks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twilight_Shadow_Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Shadow_Songs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pretty Little Kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295232) by [Twilight_Shadow_Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Shadow_Songs/pseuds/Twilight_Shadow_Songs). 



> Sequel to Twilight_Shadow_Song's "Pretty Little Kitty". It isn't entirely necessary to read that to follow this, but one should probably read it anyway since it's adorable.

_-:-_  
_At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman._  
_-Albert Camus._

* * *

_August, 1999: Germany~_

Berlin was always freezing in the winter and for the life of him Argus can't remember why he'd volunteered to go and find a specific plant for Professor Sprout before term started up again after the winter holidays came to a close and the pests that were the students came herding in like spooked clusters of deer being followed by wolves. Perhaps it was for the sake of his own sanity; being all alone in his chambers at Hogwarts were abysmal when things were busy _(drafts found their way in through cracks in his windows and the heat seemed to seep away from him to find better company in the rot and grime of the cobbled floors and chipping paint along his walls and ceilings--and Mrs. Norris could only do so much just sitting in his lap or along the back of his neck like an over-sized water bottle)_ and when they slowed down, his workload decreased to a screeching halt.  
  
  
No, perhaps she'd supplied Filch with going to look for Vanter Viper slug leaves because he'd been banging around, looking for any reason to leave the castle and he couldn't help but jump on it as if _He_ was doing _Her_ the favor.  
  
It wasn't even the cold chafing at his fingers _(full gloves limited his abilities at school, so he'd cut the tips of the fingers off all the ends of every pair he'd had tucked away, his pride not allowing him to ask for help from Minerva to use Transfiguration to fix them up again)_ and finding its way through his moth eaten coat and knit-cap, it was the company he hadn't found the use in spending time with since the half-giant had moved on from his own schooling and grown into a full fledged half-giant. They had barely spoken since Hagrid had introduced the castle caretaker to Mrs. Norris at half the size he was currently tromping along ahead of the grim looking man--conversation didn't just pick up from his aged twelve to...however old his was.  
  
Merlin's beard, Argus didn't usually even care enough to consider over conversation starters. What the hell was wrong with him today?  
  
Mrs. Norris hopped from Hagrid's footprints _(measuring twice her size and quite comfortable to land in without getting the tip of her tail covered in fresh white powder if she kept it high in the air--like a banner of her own)_ at a steady pace between them. She'd been doing this odd little forward march since they'd dismounted the Thestrals they'd taken to the outskirts of Berlin and left with the Ministry's foreign customs officials of Germany until they got back with their duty finished _(the one unfortunate gift that came from the last battle of Hogwarts was that now a lot of people--including a mere Squib like Filch--could see the beasts that towed the carriages from one place to another; a lot of the students had ended up apologizing to Luna Lovegood if Argus recalled correctly)_ and frostbite probably decorating most of Filch's skin by that time.  
  
"I feel like I'm in the last circle of hell an' you're tromping around like it's bleeding springtime. If this is the benefit of having half a giant's blood, I wish one of my parents had a great-relative with the same romantic inclinations as your father. Might have given me a better profile to top off the heat"  
  
Surliness was always a good standby.

* * *

 _One Month After the Battle of Hogwarts: 1998~_  
  
Broken glass had been the hardest for Filch to clean up. When the mourners of the dead descended and ascended in their turn s through the grounds, he hadn't the time to sweep it all up and he most certainly wasn't going to ask for help from any of the other staff when they were part of the crowds full of tears to shed for other people.  
  
Filch wasn't. He'd mourned Dumbledore at the site of his death and he'd said his piece on his own at Potter telling of Snape's demise _(he'd been almost as insufferable as Argus was on a good day and he'd been top notch at dishing out deserved punishments to the students when detentions were sent his way--knowing what he'd gone through in the time between had allowed that one soft spot Filch had for anyone other than his familiar to surface long enough to attend that funeral at least, suit or not)_ when the man was buried, but that didn't mean he'd get in the way and be needlessly disrespectful to the dead--he'd busied himself with clearing out the internal rubble when the crowd was outside, his own injuries from the fighting causing Mrs. Norris to pause in herding owls out of nooks and crannies to yowl at him to rest. When the mourners came back into the Great Hall for massive amounts of tea and biscuits, he'd shuffle back out.  
  
Really, it was amazing how exhausted he was after the whole avoidance dance; no small wonder that he'd earn a karmic backlash with his broom handle breaking to pinch his palms with splinters and cut the tips of his fingers when he went for the handheld brush and dustbin that were filled with glass from the cabinet they'd been in breaking from a spell's explosion in the rooms surrounding his junk closet.  
  
His best friend and probably the only thing he'd die for ends up stringing along the gallumping "teacher" that set her in Filch's life, her candle eyes chastising and tail methodically waving in perfect time that would shame Swiss clocks as Hagrid made bumbling jokes about glass sheets and wicker pales and tried to make more proper conversation that somehow failed the more he pulled sharp objects from the caretaker's hands with tweezers three times the size of some quills and exacting barbs that clutched tight to the prize.  
  
Hagrid didn't mind the blood sticking to his skin and the hands four times smaller than his and many times more brittle twitching to pat Mrs. Norris when she thanked the half-giant with quiet purrs and figure eights around tree stump sized ankles.   
  
He was surprised at the offer of ale when "all the bleeding heart criers" left with the daylight hours, but it was as close to a thank you as Filch was likely to utter since Hagrid was twelve; refusal didn't cross his mind.  
  
Perhaps he should have held back a little when he laughed and patted the other man on the back, though. The familiar that had been so friendly as a kitten tore off the ends of his shoe laces when Filch hit the ground and needed the tweezers to have at his knees when they made impact with the debris of destroyed cobbled pathways, grey and red stone painful to such knobby knees.  
  
"Oh, oh, oh, s'rry, s'rry, s'rry! Here, 'll 'elp ya up ol' boy--"  
  
"No, no, it's fine," Filch said forcefully, recalling the last time Hagrid had accidentally knocked someone over and picked them up so they hung in the air like a newborn pup or kitten, shoes hovering well above the ground and getting dusted off with all the dignity of a handkerchief swatted at with a large stick.  
  
Filch allowed Hagrid to hold out his hand to use as a rail of sorts, though, so that was nearly a victory for the half-giant neither would mention; eventually this might end up being common practice since Filch might well be still of strong arms and vaguely sturdy back, but his knees were almost as bad as an eighty year old man.  
  
Mrs. Norris would remember this the next time her person got stuck halfway up a staircase and needed help when it was necessary again. It was quite important as well as being highly amusing.

**Author's Note:**

> Title came from watching Studio Ghibli's 'The Wind Rises' seven times on repeat. Because it's gorgeous.


End file.
